


Rescue

by Little_Bites



Series: Teen Wolf: Bruises Build [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Dark Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, Hurt Isaac, Hurt Lydia Martin, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Hale, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Isaac Lahey Feels, Jennifer Blake is the Darach, Language, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Bites/pseuds/Little_Bites
Summary: One rescue turned many with a fox in the hen house. (can be read as a stand alone)
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Series: Teen Wolf: Bruises Build [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207502
Kudos: 11





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> First couple chapters have a bit of editing from @FrozenAdventures. There are time jumps. The jumps are not as bad as in the first.

Four months after Stiles was released from the Hospital, Stiles’ bedroom…

Stiles laid there, awake but unmoving in his bed while keeping his breathing slow as if he were still sleeping. He wore baggy dark sweats and a loose black t-shirt. He wore his metaphoric armor of clothes even with some of his wolves present. He still did not want the others to see his scars, ask about them. Stiles knew it would be well intended, but he just couldn’t do it—some burdens were too heavy to give voice to let alone share.

Peter was curled tightly to his right side in dark sweats and a white v-neck shirt. Both items of clothing were hugging Peter in all the right places as far as Stiles could tell. Then again, the man could probably pull just about anything off as far as Stiles could tell.

At that thought, Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. Thinking about Peter as anything other than a pack mate felt weird. As it was, Stiles wasn’t even sure he wanted anyone in an even slightly sexual way. Honestly, Stiles wasn’t completely sure he was in a place right now to even consider such a thing too seriously as he had a pack that included a sketchy member (Deaton) and two rival packs in town.

Stopping himself from rolling his shoulders, Stiles did let his mind wonder over the pack situation in town. There was Scott’s pack that as far as they knew was just Scott and Theo really. However, Scott had been led to assume Deaton was in his pack by omission even though Deaton was a beta of Stiles’ pack. Then there was Derek’s pack that as far as they knew was Derek, Issac, and Adrian. At the same time though, Derek had been led to believe through omission that Boyd and Erica were in his pack despite their being in Stiles’ pack.

Having spies in both rival packs in the town whose Nemeton he had in a way claimed, Stiles knew he was in a better position than he could be in. however, with that thought, Stiles still knew that Theo, especially, was dangerous and that regardless of the current situation, having other Alpha werewolves in his territory was not a good thing long term. Hopefully Stiles could find a peaceful way for him and Derek to continue to work together even if only as some weak human, like Derek still believed him to be.

And Scott’s pack? Well, Stiles knew a trap of a situation if ever he saw one. Scott himself was dangerous as it was with an Alpha spark let alone with someone like who Theo seemed to be being antagonizing the young Alpha.

Regardless, right now, the best he could do was to keep his eyes and ears open while not exposing any possible weaknesses to the two other packs and keeping Deaton at arm’s reach. Even as his beta, Stiles knew to be careful of Deaton. The man was quiet with all his cards hidden. Stiles was willing to have him in the pack but wanted to wait the ex-druid out to see what the man was up to. 

Unable to stop himself, Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. Getting himself all wound up at the start of the day over things he neither controlled nor could change so early in the morning, Stiles mentally tried to keep his breath sleep-shallow while imagining literally wiping his mind clean with a rag as though it were a dry erase board. Once he had completed the task, he tried focusing on the physical rather than the unknown.

Erica was laid out over Stiles: belly to belly at an angle. She had her arms and legs both hanging partially off the bed on opposite sides. She was in a huge bedtime t-shirt that was light blue and about at her knees in length. She covered both of their soft spots even in sleep: a lasting response to shared trauma.

Stiles could not deny that her position gave him comfort: his squishy innards were protected. Who could argue that? Well, he could, but he was not willing to open that door. It led to ways he could be hurt, but more concerning is that it led to all the times he had already been hurt.

Running his free hand softly over Erica’s curls, Stiles found his mind still wandering. It was too early to get up. There wasn’t even light out yet. However, the two wolves sleeping with him were thoroughly worn out from their night of food, music fights, and researching. Who knew researching could wear one out this much? It blew his mind how much it wore them all out sometimes, but he was still the one who struggled to both fall and stay asleep. 

Stiles’ “accidental” mis-dosing his own Adderall also kept him awake; however, so many nights and days it was that or spine-ripping levels of emotional and physical pain through memories in his sleep. For better or worse, his sleep was the one place he could not keep out things that had happened to him. He didn’t want to remember, but no matter how hard he tried or how many times he had been beaten, Stiles still had his memories intact. It was like the world’s pound of flesh owed in exchange for his continued survival.

The nightmares were better now, with his never having to sleep alone anymore, but they were still there. The worst of them seemed to wait to pop up until he was his weakest. Sadly, his weakest was a common mental state. Not as much as before, but some realities never died.

Stiles ran his left hand gently over his cheek. He could still remember. He could remember his Mother’s last kind touch to his skin. She stroked his cheek softly, in a rare moment of clarity, and told him that she wished she could be there for him longer. He had cried at the time. At the age of seven, he got the last voluntary kind touch he had up until Scott. 

Scott’s touch was neither rare nor common. It was like waves coming in erratically, but still coming in until Allison. Scott was a friend, a bro. They touched as much as male friends did really. It was at least more than his father touched him, hugged him.

Stiles knew touch where he reached out and touched. It was hard at times to have an excuse for it though. Helping his whiskey-drunk father to bed, Stiles then took off the man’s shoes and took away the empty bottles. He knew those days well. Then there were the days after his father sobered up. The occasional touch. The on-a-holiday levels of touch. 

God, Stiles missed when his Mom was alive. Not only did she touch him, but his father did too. They were a happy family. They hugged, laughed, and just spent so much time together happily.

Stiles barely kept himself steady, not wanting to put off scents of distress and wake the wolves in his bed. He wanted to hold onto this longer, hold onto touch freely given and taken. It was one of the benefits to his research on wolves months ago. It provided permission to touch, to be touched. They needed it too. They could all need and have it together.

Stiles sighed at himself. Every time he began to miss his Mom and touch, it also brought him back to when she was hurting him, when others hurt him. 

Unwilling to let himself slip into the pains of the past, Stiles began to move, slowly slipping himself free of Erica and Peter. He needed to get his mind on something else. As a result, he opted to get up and get started on breakfast. Maybe he’d even make some lunches. At the very least, he could get his mind together enough to keep his painful memories to himself for another day as well as take some Adderall to keep himself awake to hold him over until his daily run with Erica and Boyd.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Lunch at Beacon High…

On the bleachers by the cross-country track, Stiles and his pack were gathered to “study” for lunch period and then their open period. The whole pack managed to get the same free period, except for Erica. She had a free period that intersected, but not the same whole period. Erica had a partial period with the school nurse checking in on her. Erica’s parents were concerned with her lack of seizures that it could lead to something different, maybe bigger happening to her. As a result, Erica not only had to see the nurse during school but had regular doctor checkups just to make sure she was okay.

The whole group present were clustered across three levels of the bleachers in a clump of books, food, and texting. The texting was with their members who did not still have to go to high school: Deaton and Peter. Well, and sometimes the Sheriff as Stiles had promised his Dad to keep him in the loop. Stiles kept that promise—for the most part. It’s hard to trust the man who blew off his effort to come out and considered Stiles’ true friends a threat up until very recently.

After rubbing his jittery hands over his face, Stiles wiped the sweat on his hands on his loose denim jeans and then on his baggy red t-shirt. He then shook out his hands and arms to his sides as if his Adderall withdrawal would be so easily flung off him. He couldn’t help that he forgot to take his meds after breakfast that morning in his efforts to care for his pack and his Dad let alone his less than pleasant memories the morning had tried to take him to. Stiles’ first dose of the day was too early, but the second dose and the pills were forgotten at his house.

In his jeans, t-shirt with a blue open flannel over it, sneakers, and dark purple bags under his eyes, Stiles had a spellbook open on his lap that was written in Latin with sticky notes of translations on sections in the book. Stiles took a deep breath before picking his phone back up off his lap and checking Peter and Deaton’s texts. “Okay, Deaton says it may be possible to kick start Issac’s healing. I think that should be our number one concern in the foreseeable future. I think we cannot leave him possibly stuck in his own mind as Peter had been. We don’t need more crazy wolves running loose. Also, Peter thinks he may have a lead on some of the spell components we may need.”

Lydia, in her form-fitting medium blue three-quarter sleeve shirt and sleek green jeans, watched Stiles. She had her physics textbook open on her lap with a pen resting in the break between pages. Under the textbook was her open notebook. Not alarmed at all, Lydia was mild about Stiles’ actions as she had grown more than used to the odd ways of the teen Alpha. However, she did notice the withdrawal symptoms. She made a mental note to get Stiles some coffee after class to help him mellow out.

Next to Lydia with their legs touching, Allison wore denim jean capris, purple tennis shoes, a white blouse under a light blue v-neck sweater, and a long chain necklace with an opal stone pendant. Her hair was loose and tucked behind her ears. She was texting up a storm. Her Dad had become a bit overprotective since the fight in the preserve months before. 

It did not hurt that Stiles never told Chris Argent the whole story of what had happened between them, Scott’s pack, Derek’s pack, and the witches. Stiles didn’t trust Argent any further than he could spit. Not that he made a habit of spitting. The only Argent Stiles trusted was Ally. The rest so far just left a sour taste in his brain.

“Stiles, we need to be careful. Dad’s saying he’s hearing rumors about a Nogitsune in the area. I think he’s worried any large supernatural acts would draw its attention,” Allison said as she looked to Stiles’ with a smile hinting at being in on the nogitsune situation. 

The whole pack knew about Peter carrying the nogitsune within him. It was their little secret. The only pack member who did not know was Deaton. Although he was a wolf and in Stiles’ pack, trust was still hard won. They were in no rush to accidentally or on purpose follow down Scott’s trail of over-trusting the man.

With a sigh, Stiles set his phone down and shook out his arms again. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to remind Peter to keep things on the downlow.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Keeping a secret is his primary skill alongside finding a secret. I doubt that’s where the rumor came from.”

Stiles shrugged. “Good point.”

Even though Scott nor Theo had made any move to interact with any of them so far, Boyd watched for them nonetheless. He wore black jeans, black sneakers, and a gray t-shirt. The young wolf had a notebook open on his lap and a pen in his hand; however, he was not writing anything down. Instead, Boyd was listening and watching. He had remained on hyper alert since Stiles had nearly died in the witch battle in the preserve. Boyd refused to risk anyone in the pack being hurt again, let alone his Alpha.

Allison then sighed, still texting. “He really wants to know what you are up to as well as the wolfs. At least he hasn’t figured out you have a pack yet.”

Nodding, Stiles sent a text to update Peter, then leaned a bit on Boyd while running a hand down the wolf’s arm. “Thankfully, so far no one knows. Well, except Dad.”

With a giggle, Allison took a pause from texting.

Lydia sighed. “Okay, back to what we were talking about. So, healing Issac may be something doable. Do we have a game plan for how to get around Derek and the pack of lost puppies?”

Boyd smiled at Lydia’s description of Scott’s pack. His smile stayed on a beat or two longer than normal as he took out his own phone and texted too.

Lydia tilted her head faintly to the side, checking her phone as she felt it go off. She then looked to Stiles.

The young alpha perked his brow as he read Boyd’s text: 

Someone is watching. Not sure who, but I feel the eyes on us. 

Having seen it was a group text, Stiles responded:

Be calm. Act like we don’t know.

Lydia scoffed at Stiles of all people saying to be calm while fighting his own jittery issues.

Just after Lydia scoffed, they all heard running toward them punctuated by giggles.

Before most of them could look to see who it was despite recognizing the giggles, Erica had thrust herself onto the bleachers, rushing to join the others. In a red plaid mini skirt, knee-high black leather boots, and a tight, blue button-down blouse with her hair flowing loose, Erica hugged Stiles once she got to him. She nearly rumbled like a purr when he rubbed her back while hugging.

Stiles knew he would never get over Erica hugs. She hugged with all her being and body like it was both the first and last time they had or would ever hug. It, to Stiles, was a series of ‘I love you’s and a promise that if he went missing that she would come for him. She would fight by his side for him as he would for her. each hug meant more words in a breath than a hug really ever had in the sparse times he had received them before he had a pack.

When the two broke apart, Erica then plopped down on Lydia’s other side from Allison with a huge grin. “So, saw Theo today.”

Sitting down, Stiles took a calming breath. “Anything that matters to us?”

Erica shrugged. “Not sure. He may be more pissed than normal today. I guess his grades aren’t so great.”

Thinking, Stiles ran a hand through his hair. He knew this could spell trouble, especially with his suspicion of Theo. Stiles may have known the boy when they were younger, but the person wearing Theo’s face was not the boy who had played with Stiles when they were younger. Something was different. He couldn’t put his finger on the exact why, but he was perfectly okay with not finding out and keeping his distance.

Stiles believed the changes had to be more than a response to their shared trauma, but he hesitated to vocalize that as whatever happened to Theo was best kept at a distance for now. He’d not really seen or interacted with the boy since the preserve. Before that, Stiles had been busy with the things happening around him and to his remaining friends. Or as Peter had already considered it, his pack.

Rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension building from his thoughts generally and even remotely brushing his thoughts against past trauma, Stiles cleared his throat then sighed. “Okay, I’ll talk to Deaton. Let’s give Theo space as we have been between classes, but also really keep an ear out. If he’s angry, Theo could give something away that we don’t already know.”

As he spoke, Stiles also had re-begun texting again. He wanted to update Deaton and Peter though more the later than the former. He really wanted to keep the whole group on mostly the same page and safe.

Still texting, Stiles looked around at everyone there. “Anyone in classes with Theo? Or with a locker in sight of his?”

Erica shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed, but math is kicking my ass. So, if I have a class with him, it’d be that one, especially as I was added in after we had done our schedule go over as a pack. Honestly, bigfoot could be in the class and I doubt I’d notice.”

Stiles nodded.

Everyone else in the group did some form of a shrug in response to Stiles’ question.

Nodding again, Stile continued to text. “Okay, Erica, I’d like you to take a solid look around of your class today. If anything gets missed in class, we’ll address it while we’re all doing homework later. I want us to be as ready as possible for any trouble that could come. The same goes for everyone today and tomorrow in cause Theo’s classes have changed. I want to re-confirm if our schedule still works.”

Lydia looked at her phone. “Trouble or not, we’d better get going.”

The whole group gathered their things and headed back into the high school for their respective classes.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Erica had a bit of a bounce in her step as she left the pack to head for class. She felt a thrill running through her. Her Alpha had given her a job. She suspected she should feel weird about it, but somehow helping Stiles since Gerard’s basement just felt right. They’d suffered, been stripped down through torture together.

She had never had an abundance of respect for the human. He was just another face. He was one more person who she had always assumed saw her as sick, as broken somehow. He was a face among the sea of them. She didn’t respect any of them even when her social needs demanded fitting in. her mind cried out for friends, for belonging. She thought she was alone in that.

However, with Stiles, in Gerard basement? It forced her to see that she was not the only one reaching out, seeking belonging. The human took the torture, took the pain but did not give up his humanity. If anything, the torture when paired with people’s responses after? She felt so connected to him, in both the basement of hell itself as well as the crash to earth that was being back out.

She watched his struggle and saw herself in it. She saw the damage to her life of her seizures in his ways, in all the things he never said. Erica did not know who or what hurt him before Gerard, what his “seizures” were, but she knew they were kindred spirits. He had seen the dark places she had, or ones just like them.

Erica felt connected to Stiles the person while her wolf was connected to Stiles the Alpha. No, he was not connected to her wolf as an Alpha but as HER Alpha.

She couldn’t deny that even though Stiles was human, he had a lot of qualities that Derek had explained as wolf traits: loyalty, physical comfort, even a strong level of protection. There were other qualities too, but these were the ones that stuck in her mind due to their connection to Stiles. 

Erica couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if this was how Stiles had always been or if he was forged by something. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew there were deeper, darker shadows in her Alpha than he showed. Unlike with others, Stiles’ intrigued her, made her even seek to protect those dark places. 

She would never forget his belief about werewolves and his father: it wasn’t his secret to tell. Even when it cost him, Stiles would not bend OR break so far as she had seen. Somewhere inside, Erica knew there had to be a limit. There just had to be. If or when that day came, Erica was sure she had to be there for him yet also feared for others with what he could do. 

Still with a bounce in her step, Erica walked into the dreaded class of her nightmares: math. However, after taking a seat, she noticed that the teacher wasn’t there at the front of class with their ‘80s era thick glasses and odd love of draping themself in heavy browns. Erica took a cursory scan of the room. In her scan, Erica learned two things: Theo was indeed in class with her and the teacher was nowhere in the room.

As a result of that, Erica took her phone out to subtly hold it one-handed beneath her desk. She kept her body in false relaxation with one arm hung over her desk chair.

After a few minutes, the Principal in all his gray-haired glory entered the classroom. Alongside the Principal was a dark-haired, demure woman. She wore a black button-down shirt, a dark-colored pencil skirt, tights, and ballet flats. Her hair was partially pulled up, leaving some still hanging long.

The Principal, a man in his forties wearing brown slacks with a white button-down shirt, stood at the front of the classroom. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, your math class this quarter has been changed to another English period.”

After a moment of silence, the Principal slid his hands into his pockets. “This quarter, also due to unforeseen circumstances, English is being taught by a substitute: Ms. Blake.”

As the Principal motioned to the dark-haired woman, she stepped forward to take over. “Hello, I’m Ms. Blake.”

Once Ms. Blake began speaking, the Principal left the room.

Ms. Blake moved to the chalk board to write out her name on it.

Erica tilted her head just slightly to the left as to fully take in the woman. While the woman was writing on the board, Erica texted Stiles under her desk to let him know about the change. While such things could be for innocent reasons that are no big deal, the opposite could also be the case.

She also included in a follow up text that warned her Alpha that Theo was indeed in her class. Despite earlier, Theo made no noises of relief or otherwise. She felt like she had a serial killer at her back. At least now she knew he was there. She felt a small smile forming at knowing she was safer knowing than she had been before.

Making a mental note to ask about options to keep the crazed boy busy so she could focus on class, Erica slipped her phone back into her pocket before pulling a piece of gum out to pop in her mouth.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Entering their History class, Stiles and Lydia immediately saw the history teacher, Mr. Yukimura at the front of the class writing out dates on the board with arrows between them.

The man was of average height with jet black short hair, tan slacks, white button-down shirt, and a plaid blue tie of medium width. He was impeccably straight lines with an almost infectious love of history. The man knew tons of information to the point it was a wonder he taught High School history rather than college. However, he was in Beacon High no less.

Stiles smiled, excited for the class content, and dutifully moved to sit in the right corner seat in the back row of class. He did not look to see who took a seat beside him as he and Lydia had already agreed it would be her since Scott was in this class too.

Sadly, Scott was not in the loop about the plan.

Noting the lack of attitude-aura beside him, Stiles turned his head to find Scott sitting beside him. Wearing dark jeans, a red t-shirt, and sneakers with recently shorn hair, Scott had a lop-sided smile as he looked around the room. He did not seem happy for this class, but it was hard to say with Scott. At the very least, the teen wolf seemed on edge.

Stiles sometimes wondered if Scott’s smile was his default expression when not confused. Meanwhile, he was barely able to keep his growl of displeasure to himself at the unwelcome closeness to Scott. However, Stiles saw Lydia coming hard like a steamroller at Scott.

He was not at all aware of anything coming, let alone it being a badass Lydia Martin on a war path.

Lydia stood right in front of Scott with her arms crossed over her chest. “Excuse me, I was sitting there.”

Scott looked up to her like a little puppy thoroughly confused. He then spoke, starting in a rush before truly separating his words with a somehow threatening tone as an undercurrent through every word: “Noyouweren’t. I always sit next to my best friend, right Stiles?”

Before Stiles could even attempt any form of answer or fully consider questioning the strange voice tone, Scott’s attention visibly shifted to the beautiful girl with long black hair who just walked into the classroom. Scott looked to Stiles with the tilt of his head in question as if he had not just been claiming to be Stiles’ best friend who he always sat by while strangely flashing his red Alpha eyes at the fellow teen.

Understanding, Stiles motioned for Scott to go on even as he perked a brow at the flash of red eyes. Why fight it when Stiles didn’t want to sit next to Scott anyways? Plus, the flashing of red was never a good sign.

Scott rushed from his seat fast enough to nearly knock over his chair just as the girl sat down at a desk. He made his way to sit right beside her with an adoring smile melting his face as he turned to look at her.

Th girl had not yet noticed Scott, instead setting her notebook and writing implements on her desk. She then took a moment to get comfortable it seemed.

The girl in question appeared to be cut right from a magazine with her flawless light olive skin, long dark hair, lithe body, and brown eyes. She wore skinny jeans as well as a black and white stripped long-sleeve shirt with a slim chain necklace with a single, blue pendant upon it.

Lydia then proceeded to take her seat beside Stiles while rolling her eyes at Scott.

Stiles could not help but be frustrated. Did Scott really think so little of him as to repeat history? In history class of all places? He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. He had already written Scott off as a friend, but somehow this all still hurt. Not only did Scott still not figure out that they’re not friends anymore but continued the messed-up behavior that contributed to their friendship being destroyed.

Even outside of the ghost pains he still felt for the friendship they’d not really had since Scott had gotten the bite, Stiles was concerned with why the young alpha was flashing his eyes and speaking like even normal words may be threats. It was not normal to say the least. Plus, they’d not spoken in months. What could have changed so starkly in the time apart?

Regardless, Stiles leaned toward Lydia and whispered. “New girl?”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia got a bit more comfortable sitting at her desk. “Yes, and she already has a stalker. How fun.” 

Nodding, Stiles returned his attentions back to the front of the room briefly before scribbling a note and slipping it to Lydia, muttering to himself. “Can’t help but feel bad for her.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & kudos feed my plot bunnies <3


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